


Those Who Bare Fangs At God

by Reis_Asher



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, French Kissing, Love Bites, M/M, Murder, Murder Husbands, Neck Kissing, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Season 3 Finale, Season/Series 03, Suicide Attempt, Teasing, will literally gets off on murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:40:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25423282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: Between arriving at Hannibal's cliffside home and Dolarhyde's entrance later that night, Hannibal and Will stoke tension for the act that is to come...
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 89





	Those Who Bare Fangs At God

**Author's Note:**

> This was eventually called "The Space Between" which is arguably a better name, but I feel like I'm doing my Hannibal fics a disservice if I'm not calling them something a bit pretentious.
> 
> Warnings: Will literally orgasms at the act of murder. If you're here for nice guy Will Graham, you've come to the wrong place.

“I’m going to slip into something more comfortable," Hannibal purred the second he closed the door to the cliff house behind them. There was something different about him since their escape, a kind of energetic glee that was both cute and erotic. It was a threatening kind of delight, when Will considered Hannibal was likely in this mood because they’d come here to slay the Dragon. Like a child taking joy in the concept of plucking the wings off a butterfly. It only added to the unsettled feeling in Will's gut as Hannibal left him alone to ponder the future. 

Will paced the living room, driven to keep moving or risk thinking too much. Nervous energy crackled through him like electricity. It made him feel both powerful and weak, and he wondered how long he could keep this up before he crashed. The beauty of this home only served to make him think of his, the simple life he'd thrown away to follow Hannibal here, and yet he could no longer summon the pretense of regret.

He knew that meant he was wearing a person suit as much as Hannibal was—that all the things he knew were wrong about Hannibal were wrong about him, too. A man was supposed to care about his family, and yet he almost felt relieved at the prospect of abandoning Molly and Walter. As if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders, allowing him to follow the cult of death and bloodshed he'd been called to this entire time. He'd tried to suffocate that calling beneath pillows of domesticity, but Hannibal had woken it from its eternal slumber, pushing air into Will's lungs until his inner demon breathed again.

Hannibal emerged from the bedroom, his scent proceeding him. No doubt something out of a bottle that cost more by the fluid ounce than printer ink, saddled with a pretentious name that was an oblique reference to a deep cut in art history. Hannibal wore a satin bathrobe monogrammed with his initials. The belt dangled down tantalizingly, urging Will to step forward and tug on it. Will's breath hitched and he gazed at the floorboards, trying to compose himself in the face of such temptation. He couldn’t afford to lose his mind now, though part of him longed for the distraction.

He’d never considered himself anything other than heterosexual, and yet something about Hannibal made him question all that. Was he simply attracted to Hannibal, though, or was his desire for another man just another calling from his true nature that he hadn’t allowed himself to consider before now? Was that the lure by which Hannibal had hooked him, digging in beneath the surface to reel him in? The more he struggled, the more Hannibal's barbs hurt him, bringing him to this time and place of reckoning.

Hannibal lifted Will’s hand and pressed the satin belt into his palm, closing his fingers around it. It was tantalizingly soft and smooth, placed there by fingers that were almost reverent in their tenderness.

“Hanni—" Will protested, his voice barely raising above a whisper. He didn't even fully understand why he still fought back, only that the values his father had taught him seemed to run deep, ingrained into him in a way that was not easy to discard. Everybody he'd respected in his life would be disgusted at him now, and the chorus of so many voices screaming out his name gave him pause for a moment.  
But only a moment. There was someone else who had a hold on his soul, now, who'd been playing tug-of-war all this time, pulling on the other end of the rope. That man—Hannibal—now handed him the end of the rope and left the choice up to him.

“In less than an hour, we might be dead,” Hannibal observed. “It is these moments that afford us the opportunity for insight denied us in normal circumstances.”

Will swallowed, his mouth parched. “Giving someone encephalitis is a lousy attempt at foreplay.” He knew he was trying to remind himself of everything Hannibal had put him through. Blaming him for Abigail's murder. Making him swallow her ear. Framing him for murder. Putting him behind bars. Making him question his own reality. Yet his argument sounded weak, even to his own ears. It was logically correct, but nothing about their relationship had been logical from day one. Hannibal had directly appealed to his soul, and his soul had responded with yearning he'd tried to suppress every day since.

"You don't have encephalitis now, Will. Your choices are your own." Hannibal only smiled, a wicked grin that made Will’s chest squeeze, and he knew he was on the hook. “I can make you sweat in more pleasurable ways.” 

The timbre of Hannibal's voice seemed to vibrate along the length of Will’s spine, making his knees weak. He wanted to pull the cord and expose Hannibal’s naked body. The satin left little to the imagination, hugging the shape of Hannibal’s dick, and the temptation made Will’s cock stiffen. What did Hannibal look like? Probably uncut, given that he was European. Definitely generously sized, given the bulge in his robe. Will wondered what it might be like to get down on his knees and worship the length of Hannibal’s cock with his mouth. Butterfly kisses at first, and then tentatively wrapping his mouth around it, seeing how much he could reasonably take without gagging. Would Hannibal be gentle and measured, or would he be cruel, forcing his dick down Will’s throat until he sobbed?

Which did he want more? Will couldn’t be sure. Hannibal knew the answer, and if he wanted to know, he would have to trust him.

Hannibal lifted the belt out of Will’s hand and Will snatched it back at the threat of losing the chance forever, tugging the knot until it fell away. The curtains of Hannibal’s robe fell apart to reveal the tiniest black thong Will had ever seen, and he couldn’t help but laugh—a shock laugh. He’d seen dead bodies and witnessed murder, but somehow this was the most surprising thing to come from Hannibal yet—this little piece of cloth barely cupping Hannibal’s cock like a black box covering his naked form in the name of decency. 

There was nothing remotely decent about it, and Will longed to rip it off and get to the bare flesh underneath. He forced himself to exert some self-control. He wasn't going to let Hannibal turn him into a drooling dog so easily. 

Hannibal smirked. “You like what you see, Will?”

“What’s this, the loincloth you intend to wear into battle?” Will shot back, trying his damnedest to project the image he was unaffected by Hannibal's blatant seduction. Hannibal wiped the smile off his face, and Will wondered if he’d offended him. He was good at that. If Hannibal wasn’t so taken with him, he’d be dead by now, and dancing on that knife edge was a thrill in and of itself. Perhaps he'd find himself a meal for one, lovingly cooked on Hannibal's griddle before Hannibal went to face the dragon alone.

Hannibal placed a finger on Will’s lips, bidding him to be quiet. Will's eyes darted around, expecting to catch sight of Dolarhyde, but he and Hannibal appeared to be alone. He turned his full attention back to where Hannibal’s fingers traced the stubble on his face, reaching up to caress his ears. Will had to admit he liked this—all of this. He’d never been courted. He’d met Molly at a shelter, and she’d taken pity on him like he was an abandoned dog. Hannibal didn’t treat him with condescension. Hannibal worshipped him like he was a rare prize. He felt powerful here, even though Hannibal was clearly the one calling the shots.

He closed his hand around Hannibal’s package. Hannibal managed a thin smile and guided Will’s hands to the strings on either side. Will didn’t hesitate this time, but he did take his time tugging on the strings, like a shy boy who didn’t understand the consequences of his actions. The little pouch fell away, revealing Hannibal’s erection. Even at half-mast, it was a thing to behold—uncut, veiny, and thick. Will felt like he was no longer in control of his actions as he wrapped his hand around it, pushing the foreskin back to reveal the mushroom-shaped head. Will dropped to his knees, inhaling Hannibal's scent—clean, yet musky. He buried his face in Hannibal’s balls, enjoying how the soft skin of Hannibal’s scrotum caressed his face. It seemed ridiculously bold to think of touching his dick, and yet he ran his tongue along the underside of it, enjoying every lump and vein of this new, exciting landscape.

The low groan that escaped Hannibal’s lips was a battle cry to Will’s ears, blood singing in response. Hannibal’s long fingers tangled in Will’s hair, and they made eye contact, Hannibal’s expression bare and open like Will had never seen him before. Well, except for that moment in the kitchen when Hannibal had stabbed him. Will had seen his true form then, his fury and hurt too much for one man to contain. Will's betrayal had come with a terrible price, but somehow he’d managed to claw his way back to Hannibal’s side.

A bead of pre-come pooled on the tip of Hannibal’s dick and Will licked it like an ice cream cone, forming a decadent string between his mouth and Hannibal’s cock. Hannibal grabbed Will by the forearms and hauled him to his feet with surprising strength, seizing him in a crushing kiss. It was all tongues, Hannibal exploring Will’s mouth like he’d stolen that drop of semen and he was eager to recover it. Will groaned and leaned back, and Hannibal took it as an invitation to kiss his neck, sucking and leaving marks on his skin like a savage. There would be no going back home now. It was clear he belonged to someone else, and he supposed that had been Hannibal’s intent, to mark Will as his. As if he didn't have a huge raised scar on his stomach where Hannibal had left his sign.

Will found that the concept of belonging to Hannibal bothered him less than it should. There was still a part of him that hated the man, and yet the part that loved him was greater and more powerful. He didn’t resist when Hannibal released him from his grip, took his hand, and led him into the bedroom. Will found himself eager to climb on the bed face down and spread his legs wide. There was a jar of some nice-smelling oil on the bedside table and Hannibal took it, lathering it on his fingers and palms as Will knelt on all fours.

The first finger felt like an intrusion. Will had never played with himself much. He was prone to rubbing one out when necessary and getting on with his day. Exploration led down paths he wasn't willing to travel, but self-denial seemed absurd at this point.

“Relax,” Hannibal urged. He rubbed small circles on Will’s back and Will felt his resistance crumble. Hannibal’s finger breached him more easily the second time. It felt strange, but that didn’t mean it was bad. Hannibal always gave him new experiences, and this was another id-seeking adventure on both their parts. The forbidden nature of it only made it more alluring to Will, and he wondered how far down this rabbit hole truly extended.

That thought came to an abrupt end as Hannibal’s finger curled slightly and dragged across his prostate. Will's dick, slightly flaccid now, started to quicken again, and he craved more of that sensation.

“Fuck,” Will gasped.

“I can’t hear you, Will. You’ll have to speak up.” Will couldn’t see Hannibal’s face, but he was willing to bet he was wearing a smug smile. Drawing out his dominion over Will's body like it was a fine wine to be savored.

“Fuck me,” Will managed. Hannibal didn't move, and he knew the only way to get what he wanted was to give Hannibal what he wanted. His submission. “Please.”

“That’s better.” Hannibal inserted a second finger. “Is this your first time experiencing anal penetration, Will?” He said it like he was a doctor giving him a prostate exam, his tone dry and borderline disinterested, but Will knew he was being played. Hannibal’s focus was all on him, and he was willing to bet if Dolarhyde showed up now, he could do the impossible and take Hannibal by surprise. He half-wished for it.

“Yes,” Will admitted. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Only if it is the truth.”

“It is.”

“Well, then. Do you wish for me to wear a condom?”

Will laughed out loud, blushing. "Do I—" he continued laughing. All the things Hannibal Lecter had done to him without consent, and here he was, asking if Will wanted to practice safe sex. He turned his head to catch a glimpse of the man's face, but there was no hint of mirth in Hannibal’s gaze. He was dead serious.

“I’m good, Hannibal. I think we’ve shared plenty of bodily fluids by this point.” Will couldn’t help but think of how much of his blood had to have stained Hannibal’s kitchen floor. Not even crime scene cleaners could have gotten all that out.

“As you wish.” Hannibal withdrew his fingers. A much larger organ pressed against his hole and he gripped the sheets as Hannibal pushed inside him. He was so big, breaching Will's defenses. He pushed all the way in and stopped, waiting for Will to adjust to him. Will took deep breaths, loving the burning sensation that bordered on discomfort as Hannibal intruded on hitherto unknown depths. It only made the act seem more verboten, as if having sex with a known serial killer and cannibal wasn't already frowned upon by polite society.

They moved together, Will crying out as Hannibal hit him just right with each and every thrust. Will's cock leaked from the relentless assault on his prostate, drooling all over the sheets, and it almost blew his mind to think he was having sex with Hannibal Lecter. All other fears left him, the sensation of Hannibal inside him and his large hands wrapped around Will's torso taking all his focus.

Hannibal stiffened and came with an animalistic grunt, fucking his seed into Will like he was trying to impregnate him. Will was so close, and reached for his own dick to drive himself over the edge. Hannibal’s hand grasped his wrist and pinned it to the mattress, keeping him out of reach.

"Let me—"

“No. You’ll thank me later.”

“I want to thank you right now,” Will protested. Will tried moving his left hand, but Hannibal pinned that down as well as he withdrew from Will's ass. A wet mess trickled down Will’s thigh, but Hannibal didn’t move to clean him up.

“A hungry man makes for a better hunter. You’ll know when it’s time to come, Will, and it will be the most euphoric experience you’ve ever had. Better than your own hand, I promise.” Hannibal let go, and Will made no attempt to touch himself, frustrated as he was. He didn’t want to disappoint Hannibal. His stubborn erection finally wilted, and once he was seemingly satisfied Will wasn't going to get himself off, Hannibal went into the bathroom. He came back with a warm, damp cloth and set about cleaning Will, tenderly wiping his semen away from the scene of the crime. He dried Will with a clean, fluffy towel, and they lay together for a while, Will spooning in his arms restlessly. It had answered some lingering questions, but he was still unfulfilled.

“I wish we could languish like this for all time,” Hannibal said, “but we came here to perform a task.”

Will said nothing as he rose. His unspent arousal turned to bitter acid in his veins, breeding resentment at Hannibal's denial of his pleasure. He dressed while Hannibal watched him, and only when was done did Hannibal go into the closet and find himself a suit.

They went downstairs. Hannibal poured them wine, and Dolarhyde announced his arrival with a bullet. Will couldn’t help the petty schadenfreude that crept up on him as he looked down on the floor at Hannibal, bleeding. He and the Dragon could take him, put an end to all this, but something cried out deep inside him to protect Hannibal, his master, the arbiter of his pleasure. His mind went blank as the fight began, automatic instinct taking over as he stood his ground for his and Hannibal's lives.

Will experienced a moment of crystal clarity that tore him from his trance when he sank the knife into Dolarhyde’s gut. It was so soft, this dragon’s flesh, made to be ripped asunder by mortal hands. Will pulled his sword towards him, tearing open the belly of the beast. Blood spewed from the mortal wound, and Hannibal tore out the Dragon's throat with his teeth, a debased act that made Will gasp with the sexual violence of it. It was more than erotic, this primal orgy of taking a life. Killing for pleasure violated every taboo in the civilized world, and yet here he was, delighting in it, relishing the pain and horror as Hannibal looked at him, triumphant. Will stumbled and fell, watching the Dragon collapse as his orgasm took over. He shuddered, his untouched dick spilling all over his underwear, and it was like Hannibal was still inside him, fucking him, sharing this thrill with him as they bared fangs at God by breaking the first and most important commandment.

This was what Hannibal had wanted all along. To show Will the ecstasy of killing. To take off Will’s mask and expose him for the monster he was. Not just a killer, but a beast who got off on murder. Who craved killing and eating his victims in the same way that Hannibal did. Was this what Hannibal had seen in him the moment he'd confessed he'd enjoyed killing Garrett Jacob Hobbs? Was this what he'd spent years trying to pull out of Will by force and coercion?

Yes, it was. He _understood_ it, now.

Will gasped for breath, vulnerable and weak in the wake of his orgasm. He reached for Hannibal’s hand. Hannibal offered him strength, hauling him to his feet. Will tumbled into his arms for support, unsure of whether he could support himself. Hannibal wore a look of sheer triumph on his face, and he knew that Hannibal’s keen sense of smell had to have picked up the scent of sex staining his underwear.

“It’s beautiful,” Will gasped, horrific afterglow hitting him like heroin. He was an addict, now. He’d kill again. He’d revel in the orgasm of murder time and time again. This was what his own choices had led him to, and he couldn't summon an ounce of remorse.

He rested his head on Hannibal’s shoulder, knowing he was in the company of the only person who could possibly understand. Who saw him and loved him as he truly was. He examined his own motives like he was analyzing a killer, and saw a bloody future stretched out before them as the 'murder husbands' Freddie Lounds had accused them of being. He wanted that life so badly he could taste it, and it tasted like the coppery blood on his tongue. Like Hannibal's come in his mouth.

It could only end in disaster—or it could end here, at the highest point of his life, with adrenaline flooding through him and Hannibal’s seed dribbling out from inside him. Painted with the spray from their blood orgy, they could dash themselves against the rocks below, killing each other and themselves in a final, triumphant, decadent act. His cock stirred again despite the fact that he was spent, lured by the prospect of tempting fate. He thrust his hips against Hannibal, unsurprised to find that he, too, was sporting an erection. They were of one mind in this, and Will didn't need to ask as he wrapped his arms around Hannibal and pulled him off the cliff in one last, impulsive, forbidden, thrill-seeking leap of defiance into the unknown space between life and death.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like what I do, consider following me over on Twitter @landale. I only just watched the show for the first time and I love to make new friends.


End file.
